


Wash Me Clean

by vivilove



Series: A-Z Kinks collaboration [9]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, F/M, Hand Jobs, Married Jonsa, Teasing, Teensy bit sub/dom, but it goes both ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-04-22 03:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14300247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: Despite having married for political reasons, Jon and Sansa's marriage has been blossoming like the spring.  But a weary journey touring the North has left them with little chance to explore their developing intimacy.  However, when Jon takes a tumble from his horse while visiting the mountain clans, his lady wife takes it upon herself to bathe him.W for Wash kink of the A to Z Challenge!





	Wash Me Clean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RayofHouseProcrastination](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayofHouseProcrastination/gifts), [israfel00](https://archiveofourown.org/users/israfel00/gifts).



> Yes, I'm still out of order on my alphabet but this one's been sitting in my drafts for nearly a month so I figured I may as well post before it gets deleted. I'll post my last letter next Saturday and hope Debbie will get these in the proper order for me :)
> 
> Gifted to Ray and Israfel00. Hope you both enjoy :)

 

Like an insect bite that itched but must not be scratched, it festered between them. She snipped at him for not listening to her…or for promising too much to this lord or that lady. And he glared at her for…well, for being right most of the time.

It wasn’t really fair to hold one more accountable than the other though, he thought.

They’d been married a year. They loved one another and worked well together most of the time but both were growing more irritable at all the time together without any time away from their travel companions.

Physical intimacy between them was still a work in progress. It had taken some time to adjust to the change in their relationship status after their marriage for the good of their house and their kingdom. And given Sansa’s previous marriage, Jon had been hesitant to push her.

But, just as they had started coupling more frequently, partly with the aim of producing an heir but mostly because they were coming to truly enjoy that aspect of their marriage, they’d embarked on this journey which had effectively rendered such activities nearly impossible. Alright, not impossible but Sansa had been reluctant to engage in marital relations when surrounded by their men on all sides.

This journey across the North to meet with their people after the war and the harsh winter was meant to bring some hope and reassurance. However, they were under a tremendous amount of strain from days and days of travel with little privacy. Jon, who had started to become used to having a naked wife in his bed and in his arms in the mornings at Winterfell, was feeling the lack quite keenly.

Days of dreary, damp weather, indifferent food and uncomfortable conditions had worn them both thin. Jon may have been more accustomed to rough living than Sansa but she was managing as best she could. Lashing out at one another, the only person either of them felt comfortable with lashing out at, was bound to occur.

At last they came to spend a few days with the mountain clans. It meant to be a respite from the road but also brought new tensions. The Flints, Wulls, Liddles, Norreys and the rest of the hill clans had been ardent supporters of House Stark throughout the wars but they were proud, independent men. And, Jon’s parentage had been greeted with even more suspicion there than elsewhere.

“You’re hurt! What happened?!” Sansa asked as Jon climbed gingerly down from his horse and stumbled after returning from a hunt with the men.

“Tis nothing, my lady. I, uh…fell.”

“You fell? From your horse?”

Her eyebrow arched in plain skepticism and Jon stifled an urge to say something impertinent. It wasn’t her fault that he’d been jostled by some of the young bloods in their breakneck pursuit of the stag and knocked to the ground. And it wasn’t as if _she’d_ had a hearty a laugh at his expense when it happened.

“I have been known to fall…occasionally…” The eyebrow climbed higher. “I’m fine,” he huffed.

But he was limping and clearly favoring his injured shoulder, belying his words. He uttered a moan of pain before he could help himself.

“Come on,” she said assertively, taking him by the other arm. “I’ll help you get cleaned up and see to your injuries.”

“You needn’t trouble yourself, Sansa. I’m fine and can…”

“This is why you need a squire, Jon,” she clucked, completely ignoring him. _Who has trouble listening again?_

“That’s right, King Jon. Listen to your woman,” someone sniggered nearby and Jon threw a dark look at the lot of them. At least that silenced them for the moment.

He allowed Sansa to lead him into the keep and to their guest chamber. She called for hot water and told him to take off his cloak.

“I prefer to keep it on,” he said mulishly. “And I don’t need a bath.”

She rolled her eyes at him and removed her own cloak and gloves. “Your cloak is filthy. You’re filthy and the Wull is hosting a feast in our honor tonight. You will not embarrass me or insult our host by appearing in dirty clothes with mud on your face and your hair full of twigs.”

He didn’t think he was as dirty as all that but there was no mirror. “Fine. I’ll take a bath,” he muttered.

Three serving women appeared shortly after with pails of steaming water and filled the chamber’s copper tub. Sansa asked one of them to take the king’s cloak and have it cleaned. He watched his cloak being carried away with a sour expression and then dismissed them all so he could disrobe.

The other women left but Sansa came over and began unfastening his sword belt.

“I can do it myself,” he grumbled.

“ _I’m_ helping you! Don’t argue with me, Jon,” she added in a softer tone.

His head snapped up and he beheld his wife. There was a look in her pure blue eyes, one that told him she would not be dismissed as easily as the serving women had been.

“If it pleases you, my lady,” he said, watching her closely.

He received a small smile and a nod. “It pleases me.” He started to remove his scabbard. “No, no…I’ll do that. You’re injured.”

He started to argue that he’d suffered far worse injuries as she knew perfectly well but bit his tongue. He hadn’t done enough tongue biting lately and their usual peaceful harmony had suffered for it. He intended to do better, especially as they would be sharing an actual bed for the next few nights with four solid walls around them. His cock twitched with interest at the thought.

So, Jon merely grunted an acknowledgement and allowed his wife to remove his jerkin and tunic. He could not recall her ever before helping him to undress. When they coupled, they were usually already dressed for bed. Well, he often slept with very little if anything on but at first, Sansa had preferred to keep her shift on. In time though, he’d convinced her to take it off for him more and more. As he stood there with Sansa undressing him, it occurred to him he’d not seen her bare body in nearly two moons. That was completely unacceptable.

He liked her helping him now. But, she moved about their chamber very briskly and purposefully, asking where he preferred his sword to be kept, as though she were in fact his non-existent squire. However, at other times, she would issue commands, peering at him imperiously until he had done as instructed. It was almost as though she were simultaneously a servant and a queen. He rather liked it…he liked it a great deal.

She curtly bade him to sit but then knelt before him and pulled off his boots.

“Stand up,” she said once the task was done. She circled behind him, pressing herself against his back. She began unlacing his breeches and making the hair on his neck stand up in anticipation. He put his hand on top of hers, aching for her to palm his cock. “So dirty, my king is,” she tutted in his ear as she slipped free of his hand. “Your hands are as dirty as the rest of you. I’ll have to scrub you clean.”

Jon gulped and wondered where this side of Sansa had been hiding. “I’m sorry, my lady,” he said sheepishly.

She hummed in his ear. She’d liked that response. “May I wash you, Your Grace?” she whispered a beat later.

“You may,” he answered, puzzled as to whether she wished for him to be submissive or assertive with her. _Perhaps a bit of both_. He would just have to play along and see.

Stripped bare, he watched as Sansa walked toward the tub. Her eyes were on him the whole while, tracking up and down his body. She knelt at the edge of the tub, beckoning him to climb in with a wave of her hand.

“You’ll soil your dress.”

“It’s alright. I’ll...”

“Take it off,” he rasped before softly adding, “my queen.”

“I suppose it would save me having to wash it,” she replied in a bored tone though Jon caught her fleeting smirk. She removed her dress but left her shift on. Close enough to naked for now. “Get in,” she said.

Jon climbed in and sat down with a small splash. He laid back, closing his eyes with a sigh as the hot water soothed his aches and pains.

“ _Ahhh_ …”

“It’s good?”

“Aye.”

Sansa took a rag and the soap and dipped both into the water. He watched her hands twist the cloth and work the soap into a rich lather. A piney fragrance permeated the room. He was mesmerized by the warmth of the water, her lovely face and the motions of her hands.

“Time to wash you clean, my king,” she said in a sultry tone. “Close your eyes and relax…like a good boy.”

He felt the glide of the cloth along his arm, shoulder and neck, a gentle but steady pressure as she moved the rag in a circular motion. It was relaxing and intoxicating. Sansa’s hands were on his bare body. They were alone at last. Blood pooled towards his cock.

She moved to his other shoulder, the one he’d landed on with his fall. He hissed.

“Oh, my sweet king. Does it ache?” Sansa asked, her lips grazing his jaw unexpectedly.

“It does ache,” he said, clenching his fists and longing to pull her in the tub on top of him. “It aches a great deal.”

“Shall I rub it?”

“Please, do,” he whimpered.

She rubbed his shoulder, soothing the sore muscles, and, while it was comforting, it was not what he wanted. She knew it, the minx.

Still, this was very pleasant. Never had Jon Snow received much in the way of coddling or nursing as a man or boy. So, he enjoyed watching his wife labor to cleanse him. She pushed her hair back, swiftly braiding it with dripping fingers and looking like a village girl when it was done. Her forehead had a fine sheen of perspiration from her efforts. The front of her shift had grown wet. He could see the outline of her nipples through the wet cloth. He was throbbing with want. He stroked himself to relieve the ache a bit.

“Oh no, my king. That won’t do. I’ll wash all of you but you must be patient. Can you be a good boy and be patient?”

“Aye,” he croaked, dying for her to continue.

“Lean forward.”

He did as she said and groaned as she washed his back thoroughly. She kneaded his shoulders and his head fell back against her chest.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“And I you.”

Her hands dipped below the water and he felt the cloth at his arse. Surely, she would need to clean his front soon.

Sansa moved around to the side of the tub and scrubbed his chest. Her nails grazed one of his nipples, causing him to wince slightly.

“Sorry,” she said. She wasn’t a bit sorry.

 _My back, my arms, my chest are all done. That leaves_ …

Sansa filled one of the pails the maids had left and tipped it over his head.

 _My head_ , he huffed.

But he was not truly put out.

She took the soap in hand again and washed his hair and his beard thoroughly. Her fingers massaged his scalp and his eyes fluttered closed, relishing the comfort of her gentle touch.

“So handsome, my king is with a clean face.”

“Aye?”

“Oh, yes. Though I don’t mind him dirty either,” she said coyly. “Is this nice?” she asked next.

“Hmmm…so very nice.”

“Have I pleased my king?”

“Yes…and no.”

“Oh? What can I do to please you?”

“There’s more of me to wash, my lady,” he said with a roguish wink.

Sansa rose to her knees and looked over the tub at his cock bobbing in the water, the head of it breaking the surface as though she’d never beheld one.

“Oh, that. Goodness. I must not forget that, must I?”

“No, my lady. You must not.”

“The water will be getting cold soon,” she frowned.

“You should probably hurry then. You can dry me off once you’ve finished washing me.” Sansa grinned and took the cloth in hand and started to use it. “No, no, sweet girl. This area requires something softer than that rag. Your hand perhaps.”

“Yes, my king,” she nodded, her eyes growing darker and her tongue darting out to swipe her lips. She grasped his length in her hand and began stroking. “Are you clean yet, Your Grace?”

“Not yet, my girl. Harder,” he commanded. She clutched him a bit tighter. “Faster,” he ordered next. “It needs a thorough cleaning.” She moved her hand up and down more quickly.

“Like that, Your Grace?” she asked.

“Aye…like that,” he groaned, his head falling back against the edge of the tub. He felt a rush of pain as her other hand unexpectedly pinched a nipple. _"Ahhh!"_

“Yes?” she asked and squeezed again.

“Yes!” he roared. He grasped the edge of the tub and his hips bucked into her hand, sending water all over the floor. He could feel his balls tingling as she gave his nipple another pinch. “Sansa…I’m going to spill,” he warned her, thinking she might not like the mess.

But she had been full of surprises this day. She leaned over the edge of the tub and opened her mouth. He shifted his hips in disbelief and watched her sweet lips closing it over the head of his cock.  As soon as he felt her begin to suck him, he cried out, spilling his seed into his wife’s hot, wet mouth.

Obviously, he had hit his head in the fall earlier and was dreaming.

But no, he opened his eyes and saw Sansa licking him clean.  She swallowed his seed and then daintily wiped her face dry with a towel.

“Gods, Sansa,” he chuckled as he caught his breath. “That was…”

“Nice?”

“Nice? That was so much more than nice!”

She grinned and handed him a towel.

“I’ll need to change,” she said looking down at her sodden shift.

“Aye…but first you’ll need a bath, my queen,” he said darkly before rising to bellow for more hot water.

 

* * *

 

 

  
“It’s unnatural,” Peg said to Renna and Bess. “The pair of ‘em, taking baths mornin’, noon and night. His Grace might get a bit sweaty and soiled training in the yard or riding…”

“Aye, His Grace might get a bit dirty though I’d never object to the likes of him in me bed,” Bess sighed.

Peg rolled her eyes at the interruption. “But, the queen always looks sweet and fresh as a rose. And, everyone knows you take a bath once a fortnight or else you risk catching a fever.”

“Must be his dragon blood,” Renna commented.

“Or maybe some habit the queen picked up when the Ned took her down South and the lions had her,” Bess chimed in.

“Either way, my poor old back’s a’ aching from hauling these here pails up and down these steps, day in an’ day out. I’ve nothing against the king and queen, mind you. But I’ll be as glad to see the backs of them when they go.”

“They’re leaving tomorrow,” Bess pouted. The poor girl had taken a fancy to the king. Fool of a girl. He only had eyes for the queen.

“Aye, back on the road and then visiting Bear Island next from what I hear,” Renna said.

“Oh, I feel sorry for their serving girls then,” Peg declared.

 


End file.
